


Le Roi S'Amuse

by allthemagicthings



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, Roleplay, They're both nerds, backgrund penny/julia, julia learned to be a good friend, kind of, royality kink, timeline 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 11:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19317151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthemagicthings/pseuds/allthemagicthings
Summary: In Timeline 11, Margo and Eliot become High King and Queen of Fillory way before Quentin Coldwater even enters Brakebills University. Things play out differently and when El visits the physical kid's cottage again and spots a pretty freshman? He wants him. And a High King gets what he wants.Queliot Week Day 6: Alternate Timeline





	Le Roi S'Amuse

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to [Sophie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConeyIslandBlitz/pseuds/ConeyIslandBlitz) for Beta reading this for me!

Stepping into the cottage now felt different. The smell was the same, floral and delicious, clearly coming from a spell the physical kids used to cover up the stench of a not long gone party. The “TADA” sign hung on the same place, filling the room with yellowish light, the piano on the same spot it had always inhabited and every last book was just as they had left it.

  
  


What really was different though, wasn’t the cottage. It was him. Not too long ago, he had just been a student at Brakebills University. Things changed when some weirdo with a face full of moths - they called him the beast, even though had Josh voted to call him Mothra - appeared in class and brutally murdered a teacher and two students.

  
  


He and his best friend Margo somehow managed to get caught up in all the drama this incident created and wound up befriending some older students, Josh and Poppy, and developing a crazy plan which inevitably landed them in Fillory, a fantasy world which had supposedly been fictional, or at least Eliot had believed that until he got crowned high king of the entire goddamn place.

  
  


They had gotten a bit distracted in their quest to stop the beast, being crowned kings and queens and all that. Margo and him especially got used to their roles quickly, playing the part so passionately that they might have forgotten about the whole beast ordeal. Furthermore, they didn’t want to drop out of school so they decided to take shifts with Poppy and Josh to at least attend some classes and manage to graduate later on.

  
  


So here he was, High King by blood, still wearing Fillorian garb in the place that despite the wonder which had once surrounded it, seemed to be a constant. Only on further inspection did the changes become visible. The alcohol which filled the bar was not the one he would have picked, some sofa cushions had been replaced, but most importantly there was a guy sitting on said sofa, who Eliot had most certainly never seen before.

  
  


He would have remembered that. The way he was crouched in the sofa, knees pulled up under his chin, a position that looked uncomfortable to Eliot, but the other didn’t seem to mind, lost in a book.

  
  


The cute nerd must have been one of the new students that arrived while he was off bringing knowledge and wisdom to far off worlds. He still couldn’t help but curse himself for it, he could only picture how adorably confused he must have looked when arriving on campus for the first time.

  
  


Eliot moved closer and the boy startled.

  
  


“Jesus what- who are you?” Eliot couldn’t help but grin at that, knowing what kind of picture he made, especially in that outfit. He also had to wonder how the newbie didn’t know about him, he’d been sure their little group of friends would have turned into legends by now.

  
  


“Eliot. Eliot Waugh.” The boy didn’t look too enlightened. “I’m a second year, now I guess. How come you haven’t heard of me? Or at least my cocktails?” That finally made his face light up in recognition.

“You are one of the people who vanished!” The boy sprang up from the sofa, his book dropping to the floor. “So you’re not dead?” Finally, he seemed to have captivated the boy’s full attention.

  
  


“Dead? No.” He grinned widely, even worse when he noticed what the title of the book laying on the floor was. Fillory and Further. The copy looked well read and Eliot couldn’t believe his luck. “But I think you’re already familiar with the wondrous experience I've had,'' he added while nodding to the book.

  
  


The boy’s eyes widened, he started inspecting Eliot’s outfit more closely. “No that can’t- you’re fucking with me.” He was aware he had probably just blown the guys mind and he was utterly delighted about it. Eliot knew he wanted this boy in his bed and he got whatever he wanted, becoming a king only made him more sure of that.

  
  


“Not yet, unfortunately, but I’m working on it.” Before the other could catch on to his innuendo, he held out a hand to him. “Now, if you allow me to _properly_ introduce myself, I’m Eliot of the house of Waugh, High King of Fillory.” Even after getting used to the titles in the last couple of months, saying them in this environment felt strange, not that he would let that show.

  
  


The boy took his hand but his grip was shaky. “Quentin,” he mumbled and Eliot could just see the gears in his head turning. Quentin’s eyes were looking up and down Eliot’s body, probably because the little nerd had a few ideas about Fillorian garb and was determined to find out if Eliot was playing tricks on him or not, but for now he would just tell himself that Quentin was checking him out.  

  
  


He chuckled and stepped closer into Quentin’s personal space. The tension that ensued felt _right_ ; the boy didn’t make any attempts to back off, even though Eliot could see him swallowing nervously. “You'd better not question a king, my dear Quentin.” He started, a seductive whisper. “Because if you behave well enough, I might just take you with me.” He let his hand graze gently over Quentin’s waist, feeling the sharp intake of breath. There was want in the other boys eyes and Eliot was sure that the wish to visit the land of his dreams was not the sole reason.

  
  


“I-” he mindlessly brushed some hair out of his face and nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t- are you _serious?”_

  
  


Eliot left him standing like that, took a few steps towards the flight of stairs that would lead him to his room- hopefully it hadn’t been changed while he was gone. He turned his head and drank in the sight of the still agitated boy. “As serious as I can get, Q”, testing out the nickname on his tongue he decided he liked it. Liked a lot of things about the boy.

  
  


There was a weird fascination, a strange craving which Eliot didn’t understand the origin of.  He couldn’t bring himself to care about reason, though. Not as a high king who didn’t have to justify his needs, just fulfill them. He was sure he was going to have a lot of fun that evening, back at the heart of the cottage, mixing cocktails and seducing the boy until _he_ would be the needy one and oh, how well Eliot could picture him begging so sweetly, it sent a shiver through him already.

  
  


Now he only had to wait for Margo to come back, she had volunteered to be the one sorting things out with Fogg, so she could help him choose the perfect outfit to make Quentin crumble.

  
  


-

  
  


It turned out, Eliot Waugh was not just pulling him into some dumb game he didn’t understand. His friend Margo had had a conversation with the Dean and the news had spread all over campus in mere hours.

  
  


The King and Queen of the physical kids’ cottage, perpetual partying and seduction (Quentin might have used the uproar to get some more intel on the enticing stranger) had run off to a legendary land and become actual royalty. And not just any land.

  
  


Fillory.

  
  


Fillory was actually real. As if being accepted into a magical university wasn’t enough, or him finding out his best friend was actually there _with_ him now, the place he had always dreamed of visiting wasn’t only real but in reach, with it’s High King staying at the same cottage as him.

  
  


Naturally, he just had to sprint to the library and rush up to Julia’s room, settling onto her bed to tell her of his new revelations. He finished with explaining how unbelievable this was.

  
  


“But to be fair, we’re already living in what’s basically Hogwarts; the High King of Fillory wanting to nail you fits into the theme of all our childhood fantasies coming true,” Julia answered with a teasing grin. He fell back onto her bed with a dramatic sigh.

  
  


“Jules, I never said he wants to _nail me,_ christ what’s up with you.” She laid down right next to him. “Oh, but you explained what he did in vivid detail and I know you.” Quentin hid his face in his hands. It was a weird thought, Eliot wanting him. He did notice the lingering tension, the touches- how could he not when they left such a strong trail of heat on his skin, honestly what was it with that guy?!

  
  


Wasn’t it enough for him to be that _beautiful?_ The charm, the height, those hands and those curls, that way of carrying himself- those were more than enough to swipe  Quentin off his feet as it was.

  
  


But the High King of Fillory? A figure which had already starred in Quentin’s earliest wet dreams?

  
  


“Also I can see you right now Quentin, and I know the dirty little places your mind is wandering off to. Try to keep it down, don’t wanna traumatize my poor boyfriend again.” Quentin groaned. He loved Julia, he really did but he did not understand her taste in men. After breaking up with James for being a muggle she started a fling with his asshole roommate of all people.

  
  


And while he would really love to concentrate on being annoyed by that, his mind just kept replaying those touches and that smirk and- “Earth to Quentin, what did that guy _do_ to you?!”  

  
  


Julia was snipping her fingers in front of his face. He sighed deeply. “I am _sorry_! It's just-” his best friend cut him off with a snort.

  
  


“It’s alright lover boy, we gotta get you a special someone anyway so you’re not as lonely when I’m with Penny.” It was hard to not roll his eyes at the mention of his nuisance, but Quentin guessed life had to have one downside to it. Well, maybe one more then. “There is no way in hell he would ever become my _special someone_ , I hardly believe he wants anything more than a five minute flirt.”

  
  


“In that case we will make him want more.” Quentin did not know if he liked the look on Julia’s face. “What do you want to do?”

  
  


“Just, saying if we play our cards right you could end up as King Consort _of Fillory-”_

  
  


He bolted upright. “Julia, I do not think this is where this is lea-”

  
  


“There is a party at the cottage later tonight right? He is so gonna be there, we just need to hand you out on a silver platter, I bet he won’t be able to resist,” Quentin’s jaw went slack in shock but Julia didn’t seem to care, “and we will totally get a tour of Castle Whitespire and visit Chatwin’s torrent or the flying forest. It’s gonna be epic!”

  
  


“Julia! Are you seriously gonna sell me out like that?” She just looked him dead in the eyes.

  
  


"I'd sell you out for less.” She winced overdramatically when Quentin playfully slapped her shoulder. “Don’t act out, Q. Look me in the eye and tell me you do not want the High King of Fillory have his wicked way with you.”

  
  


“Julia!”

  
  


She just crossed her arms, unaffected. He knew that look on her face, one eyebrow slightly raised, mouth a straight line. _Don’t you dare lie to me._ She had developed a new attitude towards him at Brakebills. After she had learned that he had been right and she had been wrong, she had tried to make up for it and had started encouraging him to be _himself._

  
  


While the speeches about him embracing his wants, needs and quirks and never ever letting anyone tell him off for them (not like he had let her in the past), had been heartwarming at first, the new life coach persona she occasionally took on was exhausting.

  
  


He was aware that it had made his life better, but he’d never admit it to her face. That talking everything through and coming to his own conclusions, following his own instincts had definitely improved his social life, his confidence even his mental state. It was hard to admit it to her, but he was incredibly thankful for things like:

  
  


“ _come on, if you feel like it’ll be fun let’s go to the party later, we’ll leave the second it gets too much.”_

  
  


“ _If you like it, buy it! Don’t worry about it not being your ‘usual style’, you don’t need to be what people expect of you Q. Just wear it on an occasion you feel comfortable with.”_

  
  


“ _If it’s what you feel you need, I really think you should get on your meds again, no matter what the Dean says. What does he know, this isn’t some magical fantasy shit this is your life and your brain and only you decide what makes you feel better and what doesn’t”_

  
  


He did not know when she got so good at this but he felt like most of it coming from long conversations; him being honest, her actually listening, their friendship changing and them growing even closer. The weird thing was that his romantic feelings for her had disappeared with that change, not that he’d like to think about the implications of that.

  
  


Not when there were so many better things to think about. Just like that his brain was back at it; Eliot, High King Eliot, physical kid Eliot, who’d most certainly be at the party, who had been looking positively regal when he told him that he’d take him to _Fillory_ , if he just behaved.

  
  


It was hard to admit even to himself what that phrase did to him. How Eliot had used just the right words to drive him crazy. He wanted to, he realised, not just for the reward of getting to see Fillory, he wanted to behave well for Eliot, just for the sake of doing so.

  
  


His head was swimming. What if Julia was right, and Eliot did want him but he didn’t take the chance? He would miss out on this and what seemed even worse, he would disappoint Eliot.

It wouldn’t hurt to let Julia dress him up a bit and join the party, wouldn’t hurt to at least get the chance to stare at the High King again, maybe even join the game he was playing with him.

  
  


“I guess I’m in. Do your worst.” Julia looked delighted and he decided to just accept his fate, he was supposed to accept his wants and needs after all. And Eliot Waugh? Certainly one of those.

  
  


-

  
  


Whether it was fate or coincidence for the boys to show up to the party at almost the exact same time, wasn’t a question either of them would be able to answer. Not without extended knowledge about all the times they’d met before and all the times they’d meet again after, there was no way to accurately figure out the odds of spotting the other right as they entered the common room from opposite sides.

  
  


Those weren’t matters their minds wanted to occupy themselves with, anyway. Much like the issues with the beast, Eliot liked to forget about fate and destiny, rather focused on the pleasures life had in store. He would learn to take responsibility eventually, just not in this life.

  
  


Quentin, on the other hand, would have loved to contemplate what all this meant if he had all the information about the roles he and Eliot played in this story. As he was now, unsuspecting and strangely content, he contemplated how Eliot managed to still look just as regal as he had earlier in the day, despite switching the High King apparel for an earthly one.

  
  


Eliot, on his part, was wondering if the boy changing into a tight black button up shirt and even tighter pants - not that he would mind - was a usual occurrence. When he had met him earlier, Quentin had seemed to hide inside his hoodie just as he was hiding behind his hair, which now was styled back as if he was inviting someone in. Did he do that at parties in general? Or did he do it _for Eliot?_

  
  


The truth was that Quentin did dress up more often than one might suspect, mostly with the encouragement and help from Julia. While there was indeed some extra effort he had put in to impress the High King, wearing this outfit wasn’t a novelty to him, nothing that made him twitchy and uncomfortable the way a drastic change would.

  
  


Eliot did not know this, and it was safe to assume he would keep thinking of Quentin doing this just for him. He was sure of himself, like that, which is why approaching the object of his affection was so much less painful for him than it would've been for Quentin.

  
  


A few quick steps brought him to the bar, his hands falling back into the old habits of mixing and shaking until he had the perfect drink that wouldn't just cure the withdrawal from good beverages Fillory had cursed him with, but also impress the boy who was so obviously watching his every move. A few more and he was handing the drink to him.

  
  


"Eliot, wasn't it?" Both knew the other was perfectly aware of the fact that Eliot’s name had been forever burned into Quentin’s mind, and that this was just him playing coy. Both wanted this to go well, preferably ending this night in the other one’s arms or bed, which is why neither remarked on it.        

  
  


“High King Eliot, but I like you, so I might just let it pass.” He had noticed Quentin’s weak spot earlier and there was no way in hell he would let it go. Of course he noticed the way Quentin tensed up, just for a fraction of a second, so intent on not letting Eliot know what he was doing to him, how easy it was. To be fair, anyone less experienced than Eliot wouldn’t have noticed, but Quentin had chosen the best, so that was what he was going to get.

And oh, did he try to play it off. “Really, you’re insisting on your title? Isn’t that a bit. . . lofty?” a smile crept up his face. Quentin himself was almost as surprised at his cockiness as Eliot was, eyebrows raised high. If Quentin wanted to play, he would play, he decided; no need to pity the boy when he had clearly brought this upon himself.

  
  


“Oh, my darling boy,” he grinned, a hand finding its way into Quentin’s hair, “I am sure you will use my title, many, many times.” Quentin swallowed and Eliot abandoned any sort of reserve he might have had, “loudly,” he added while tugging on the strand of hair he had trapped between his fingers.

  
  


Quentin couldn’t help but gasp, making Eliot’s grin even wider. This was way more forward than he had expected, but it was what he wanted, now more than ever. His knees already felt weak and there was a heat pooling inside of him to which he was well acquainted, despite it never having been this intense, especially not in a public place. “Do you. . . wanna find somewhere to sit down?”

  
  


Eliot nodded, taking the boy's wrist in his hand- Quentin had to wonder what Eliot did to him, that even such an innocent touch made him heat up, concentrating on those long fingers curling around his wrist in a firm grip, how big Eliot’s hands were, how much Quentin loved his touch, how naturally he led him away to the little nook next to a window which was, by some miracle, unoccupied.

  
  


Eliot was truly fascinated by the way the other was yielding, almost falling into the spot he had placed him in as soon as he let him go. Quentin truly stopped caring about the pretense; what did it matter if Eliot noticed his desperation, his need to bend to the other’s will? He clearly didn’t mind it.

  
  


The nook was large enough for them to not sit pressed together, but Quentin’s hip and knee ended up connected to Eliot’s anyway. Unsure what to say next, just indulging in the touch of the other, they both took a sip of the drink and Quentin really wouldn’t have guessed that the first time Eliot made him moan was because of a drink, yet here they were.

  
  


“Fuck, what _is_ that?” He asked before bringing the drink to his lips again, greedily gulping down more. Eliot stopped him soon after, gently guiding the hand that was holding his drink away from his mouth.

  
  


“Don’t be hasty, I don’t want you to get too drunk.” He raised his other hand to softly grip Quentin’s chin, the other one’s eyes fixed on him. Quentin’s lips were parted slightly, still glistening wet from the beverage he had just consumed. Eliot just had to let his thumb brush over the boy’s lower lip, feeling it quiver under his touch. These were pleasures worthy of a High King, he thought, glad that he could still get them outside of his kingdom. “I have plans for you tonight, after all.”

  
  


It took Quentin a moment to realise what Eliot meant, so lost in the sensation and debating with himself if he could pull it off to just close his lips around Eliot’s thumb, show off what he could do with his tongue, make him feel the way he made Quentin feel. Then the meaning of the words really sunk in, he blinked and before he could make his decision, Eliot’s thumb was gone. Instead he was tilting his face upwards, observing him for a reaction, so Quentin smiled and leaned in closer. “Really?” He licked his lips, chasing after ghost of Eliot’s touch on them. “What plans?”

  
  


“You want to see Fillory, don’t you?”, Eliot said, deciding to dangle the extra treat right in front of the boy’s face. He was aware that Quentin would probably let him do whatever he wanted to him, Fillory or not, but they had both decided to play this as a game, and a game was always more fun with a prize involved.

  
  


Quentin wasn’t sure he could even be more eager if he tried. The party going on around them had been forgotten long ago when he nodded and Eliot let go of his chin, just to place a hand on his thigh. Quentin had to close his eyes for a moment, the caress being almost unbearable. There was something in the way Eliot touched Quentin, making every little brush send sparks through him, making him aware of every connection their bodies had, the warmth his body was radiating, the breath that still managed to reach him.

  
  


Eliot was trying to make the little circles he was rubbing into Quentin’s thigh seem unintentional, no matter how careful he thought every single one through. Another intentional thing that Quentin didn’t have to know about, was the brush of his lips against Quentin’s ear when he said, “Well, if I wanna consider taking you with me”, the hold on his thigh got a bit stronger, “I need to know how loyal you are to the monarchy. . .” He paused and Quentin shivered as the breath Eliot let out tickled his ear. His hand crept up a bit higher, almost cupping Quentin’s behind. “How well you can serve its High King.”

  
  


He placed a chaste kiss right beneath Quentin’s ear. That was it, the rules of the game were laid out, now all Eliot could do was examine his reaction and see if he scored or not.

  
  


Quentin bared his neck, practically melting into Eliot’s hands. This had been exactly where he had hoped the game was going. Eliot, reassured of his tactic, latched onto the exposed skin. The taste that met him was intoxicating, more than the drinks- Eliot reminded himself to magic them onto a bystanding table, he could not have shattering glass break the mood- ever could be.

  
  


“I think you’ll be pleased to find out-” Quentin gasped out between the kisses Eliot was plastering on his neck, “How gladly I’ll serve-” He whimpered when Eliot placed a gentle bite on his throat, “Your Majesty.” One last lick and Eliot pulled away.

  
  


“Oh yeah?” He asked, pleased by how utterly debauched Quentin looked, nearly as much as he was by his words.

  
  


"Yeah", Quentin said, deciding it was time for a bold move of his own. He swung one leg over Eliot, not as gracefully as he intended to, almost toppling over if it wouldn't have been for Eliot catching him. When Quentin leaned up to kiss him, he could feel the amused grin against his lips.

  
  


Eliot didn't really care about the gracefulness anyway, not when he had a lap full of Quentin to take care of. It was so easy to slip his tongue into the boy's willing mouth, earning himself more of the delicious taste.

  
  


People have started to sing along to the song that was currently playing, some started dancing. Eliot didn’t know the song, it must have been released while he had been off earth. He knew that people were looking, seeing how Eliot had a firm grip on Quentin’s ass with one hand while sliding the other up against his neck to pull him in, not that it was necessary with Quentin chasing after his lips whenever he drew back to catch a breath. He didn’t mind.

  
  


Quentin just hoped that none of the people observing them would be Julia, not when he could feel himself grow hard already, nearly humping Eliot, all self control having left him long ago. Feeling him touch parts of his body earlier had been driving him crazy, this was simply unbearable. He couldn’t wait for what was to come.

  
  


Eliot could clearly feel Quentin’s hard on pressing against him. The hand that wasn’t holding his neck slid up, under his shirt roaming over naked skin. He briefly considered sneaking it down into Quentin’s pants, but remembering how tight they were- how could he forget with the way Quentin’s ass looked inside of them- he decided against it and grabbed a feel through them. The boy in his arms moaned and disconnected their lips to hide his face in Eliot’s shoulder.

  
  


Eliot was pretty sure he could feel Quentin’s dick twitch in his hand, when he massaged it some more, hearing the muffled little gasps and moans he was letting out. He did not know how far he would have gone if Quentin hadn’t stopped his hand, it wouldn’t have been the first time for him, fucking a cute boy in the middle of a cottage party, anyway.

  
  


But Quentin did stop him, and of course Eliot let go immediately. The other needed a couple more seconds to regain his strength before telling Eliot, “we can’t. . .  we’re in public”.

  
  


Eliot snorted and pulled Quentin back so he could face him, and he watched the blush spread over his cheeks. “But shouldn’t the public bear witness to your proof of willingness to serve your king? What is it worth behind closed doors?” Those words would probably sound extremely awkward coming from most people, but he had gotten used to the way a royal spoke to his subjects. He could also see Quentin biting his lip at it, the little nerd.

  
  


Eliot wanted to dive back in and Quentin wanted to let him, he really did, but the thought of Julia teasing him about this for months to come made him stop him again, a hand against Eliot’s chest. “How about, instead, you take me to your room and I kneel for you, your majesty?”

  
  


Eliot raised an eyebrow, trying to look like he was considering his options. Of course he knew he would take him up for the offer, he didn’t want to push Quentin into something he might be uncomfortable with. That and the privacy of his room would give him the opportunity to be more creative with the boy.

  
  


"I guess I'll let it pass, if you do a good job," Eliot winked and both tried not to start giggling, not missing the sparkle in the other's eyes or the way their lips were pressed together, trying to keep the act up. Quentin wiggled out of Eliot’s lap, carefully this time, not wanting to fall again. He gestured towards the flight of stairs.

  
  


“After you, my King”.

  
  


Neither could wait to get upstairs, both almost tripping over their steps while simultaneously trying to pull of their unbothered facade. It was comical, really.

  
  


-

  
  


Julia thought the same as she looked at the two idiots, able to hear the door slamming shut even through the music. She accomplished everything she wanted to and while she really wasn’t opposed to the idea of spring break in Fillory, she was just glad to see Quentin get what he wants. If anyone deserved that, it was probably him.

  
  


She turned around to leave the party, maybe get some studying done or go to Penny’s, when a beautiful dark haired girl stopped her.

  
  


“Hey,'' she said, holding out her hand, “I’m Margo”. She must have noticed the recognition in Julia’s eyes because she didn’t seem to bother with explaining who she was in more detail. “The other dumbass is yours, right?”

  
  


“Do you mean Quentin? Because you are right.” She took the hand and then, after a few steps and a couple more exchanged words she also took the cocktail Margo offered her. After all, a little socializing wouldn’t hurt. It’s what she had told Quentin on multiple occasions, and Julia Wicker practiced what she preached.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I originally intended to make this longer and include what Q and El get up to upstairs but it kind of felt finished? I might continue it sometday
> 
> Thank you for reading, comments make my day!
> 
> I have the same username for basically anything so find me on tumblr as [allthemagicthings](https://allthemagicthings.tumblr.com/) and on twitter as [allthemagithgs](https://twitter.com/allthemagicthgs)


End file.
